


Hatching

by domesticheart



Category: Homestuck, Jurassic Park Series - Michael Crichton
Genre: A.K.A. Jurassic Jane, Dinosaurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4212048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domesticheart/pseuds/domesticheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't every day that you are working on a team where everyone is trying to hatch real, live <em>dinosaurs.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hatching

The laboratory is silent, the air stale and smelling of something like spearmint gum. Data banks run across several smooth walls, occasionally interrupted by sliding plexiglass windows. The lights that brighten up the place are mostly switched off by now, at least in the areas that have been vacated for the night. Only the heat-emitting lamps have been left live, bulbs capable of burning angry red spots on the hands and arms of an unskilled, jittery scientist.

There is a snapping of yellowed elastic on skin and then the sound of a graphite pencil lead scribbling across paper. Beside a rounded glass case with a single, burning lamp hanging by a strand inside, Jane Crocker chews on her bottom lip as she prepares a day's summary.

Her lab coat is a bit over-sized, white and reaching far below her knees like she prefers them to, and she has a plethora of ink pens and sharp utensils peeking out of her pockets. She brushes her black hair aside and mouths the words that she wants to put to paper, adjusting her red-rimmed glasses as they tip down the bridge of her nose.

She is so distracted by her mission to finish up all of her paperwork that she almost misses the small crackling noise, similar to feet dragging across dried and parched dirt or a fire snapping at the cold air. Going still, Jane sets her pencil on the table, head whipping around towards all the open doorways of the room, of which there is only one. But no one is in the room with her, she knows this. Most entrances require an access card to pass through the threshold or fingerprint scans, and all of her companions have retired for the night.

"There is no one else here," she reassures herself with a mutter, distractedly turning her tired blue eyes back to the paper. She must be hearing things; pulling an all-nighter is never a good idea, but Jane is excited about her research. It isn't every day that you are working on a team where everyone is trying to hatch real, live _dinosaurs._ They have all been working on this project for months, testing different genes with strains of fossilized DNA in an effort to produce something that might survive infancy.

Jane looks up at the elliptical egg settled on a thin layer of warm sands under a heat lamp inside the thick glass case beside her, a thick, leathery cream-colored shell protecting the small life inside. It is a Deinonychus egg, and she has been monitoring it for a while now, a little under a month. Life signs have been fairly stable, only having dropped when the incubation lamp's bulb shorted out half a week ago. The woman had almost had a heart attack when that had happened, for she had invested so much time in trying to keep it alive. Most of her friends in the lab had been worried that she might pass out, she had gone so pale and shaken.

Most of her family had grown distant since she had started working in the labs, thinking it was wrong to tinker with the natural order of things. It was all well, though, for Jane managed to create a new family for herself amongst her cohorts and in the prehistoric creatures she was so dedicated to.

She is pulled from her thoughts when another cracking noise sounds in the empty room, and her eyes focus on a small portion of the egg shell that is poking up into the air. As she watches, dumbstruck, a claw reaches out. It is covered in clear yolk, curved and black. A faint chirrup meets her ears, and then repeats several times with growing insistence.

Grinning joyously, Jane walks over to dial up one of her coworkers on a phone attached by a cord to the wall, otherwise she would not have left the room. The young creature breaks its head free of its prison, blinking blearily with orange-gold eyes. She can already see avian feather-stubs sticking up from its skull, slick with the fluid from inside the egg.

One of her good friends from the lab answers.

"Roxy," Jane says, eyes shining when she starts tearing up a bit as she watches the tiny claws grasp at the sides of the shell. "She's hatched."

**Author's Note:**

> Yeees, another glorious crossover that needs to be expanded upon.


End file.
